Author's Notes: STORY COVERS! WHAT? Kinda exciting, lol. Mine are going to look like crap.

Chapter 10

There was a physical unease in Don's stomach that morning as he walked back home from the motel. He blamed it on the well-deserved hangover, but he somehow knew it wasn't the drunken night he spent washing down an impotence he felt so deep it turn him numb. No, it was Ian's departing words; the forced calm in his friend's voice and the protectiveness of his behavior. It was Ian's obvious disapproval of him carrying a gun spoken by his eyes that morning but his quick acceptation to let him keep it as if knowing the size of claws the monster that had been pursuing him had. He had been rattled by this idea. Ian's quiet fear for him, his own paranoia no longer unreasonable, his own fear hardly for himself but for his family, left him feeling edgy, nervous, shaky… uneasy.

And quickly his mind had jumped from Ian's behavior to the man, if not men, who have now got him on their radar. He held himself back from immediately looking over his shoulder. He had been walking over thirty minutes, every once in a while sneaking glances here and there at all direction, having yet to catch anyone trailing behind.

Part of him wondered the day Aaron Valcic had been sentenced for life in prison if that man would have the audacity to have him followed by a third party. After all, Don was now 'safe' at home where the FBI can keep a close eye on him. Ready to jump in at the first sign of trouble. Protect him whenever he needs protecting. Valcic must think those where the cards he was playing with. But assuming that Valcic's aggressiveness held back at the first sign of trouble was something Don didn't know Valcic to be. Valcic wasn't a kitten hiding under a tiger's skin. Valcic was an intimidating man with bold stripes. That man never feared blood. He thrived in it.

Valcic was a man of obsession and ambition. He'd find a way to go the extra mile even when he couldn't run it himself. He'd push himself onto anything if it meant it would give him results and he'd sit back at the background and wait if that was what needed to be done to achieve an objective.

So, Don pondered, now no more than a few blocks away from home, what was on Valcic's mind? What was he planning? Was the man or men, Ian had referred to, Valcic's men who had been ordered to follow him? Was he in a more immediate trouble than he had previously thought? Was he placing his family in danger as he led these men back home with him? Did that even matter now? Was there a piece of information about him that wasn't known to the worst of his enemies, now?

There was a voice within him that still sung the same verse. The one who said such things like – 'If only… If only I wouldn't have made it back home. If only I would have died or still be back where I was in the clutches of sadists, then I wouldn't have brought all these problems back home with me.'

Before he knew it, he was home, standing just in front of his brother's and father's house. His wristwatch reading 7:38 a.m. His jacket lightly drizzled from the morning mist that had only seemed to start its downward motion from the sky the moment he had stepped out the motel room to begin his walk home.

Panic was in him from the start of that morning that grew in girth as his mind was free to swim and swell in the many possibilities of harm that could be coming his way. He thought of his almost elderly-father, who was still a healthy and strong man, up against one man set to harm Don where it hurt the most, his family. And his brother, who possessed the strength of an average American man, up against another. Men who may have been ordered to break into the house. Men more capable than that of a healthy-elderly man and average-in-fitness brain-wiz. Don wouldn't like to think anyone as capable of setting vengeance on innocent men, but he knew that there were plenty of men willing to do it for free. Men willing to take down a whole family just to keep one from opening his mouth.

But he wasn't even considering as much. He was playing at their level now.

Don was only left to ask himself if Valcic's obsession could lead that far, if his relationship to him had not ended the day Don through him into the cage with a sentence of life in prison without the possibility of parole stamped and notarized on his forehead or if his vengeance grew deeper. He wondered about the thoughts that ran in that man's head as he sat in his prison cell, the days going by, his life counting down, with all the time in the world to perfect vengeance. It had been Don's word, his statement in court, which had him thrown in prison after all. Don had been Valcic's well-prepared noose. The end of his luxurious life. Even though Don wasn't immediately responsible, he had taken Valcic's freedom away that day in court. No longer was he able to stroll all over the world at will. There will never be another moment such for Valcic so long as he carries the remainder of his sentence.

Don would be diluting himself in thinking Valcic would let go of such a thing that easily.

As Don marched his way up to the house he was already thinking of ways to divert such attention from his family all the while his hands fiddled with his clothes and hair. Fixing his hair back and tugging his jacket this way and that to look more presentable for the possibility he would come across anyone once he entered the home.

All signs said the coast was clear he noted as he entered through the front door. He quietly shut the door behind him and stepped lightly on the wooden floor as he made his way up the stairs and into the bathroom where he proceeded to lock himself in. His mind was set on getting himself to smell like anything other than alcohol. He quickly began with washing his teeth continuing into the shower, half ignoring, half forgetting all about the mirror that has always sat in the bathroom for as long as he could remember, becoming instinct to ovoid staring at anything that would show him his reflection.

Once out of the water, he wrapped a towel around his hips picking his discarded clothes into a bunch in his arms and swung open the door becoming startled by the unexpected fact that his father had been standing just outside.

The elder man leaned up against the wall just opposite of the bathroom door, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes holding no shame as they inspected his son's exposed skin like a detective looking for any foul play.

"Good morning, Dad," Don said holding back any signs of embarrassment and, most of all, guilt. His father looked bothered, borderline angered. His brows creased at the center giving him a much aged appearance, but they also fell at the side showing his unending worry for him. The dark circles under the man's eyes told of a night with no sleep. Don could imagine his father sitting in the living room all night with a Sudoku puzzle on his laps – not one box filled in – a pencil in one hand and his eyes moving from the clock hanging from the wall to the front door as his mind left him with no little ease and at constant spin like a factory producing new and horrifying ideas and possibilities of what the night could be like for his son.

"Where were you, Don?" his father spoke as if expecting answers. A tone he had not heard his father speak with ever since Don had been a teenager.

"I'm okay, dad," Don said not expecting his father's mood to change.

His father's eyes gave him a once over just to confirm such claims but didn't seem willing to let the matter go regardless.

And even though Don had gotten over the whole 'privacy' thing after he was a teenager he still hated the way this felt; kind of like an overlap of the space that is his, like he was being pushed and shoved into a corner, forced to lie for what he had chosen not to show, a clear invasion of his 'privacy' – so being it, he hated to feel like a teenager again wanting some 'privacy.'

But that was a word many have chosen to forget now that he was back. Something Don was taking lightly but that didn't mean it didn't bother him.

Don hugged the balled up pile of clothes in his arms closer to him, looking to the side and pressing his lips together as he did.

Alan must have detected the agitation in his son because he relented. His face lost most of the hard edge, turning soft around the creases – for the better part, at least. "I was worried about you, Don," he said with a softer voice.

"Yeah, I know dad but I'm okay. I was with Ian," he said honestly though only sharing half the truth.

Alan looked relieved at this new admission. "I know I'm being," his father thought for a moment of a proper word. His eyes now diverted to the side, his brows still at angles though not as much as before. "Difficult to live with, Don, but I just need to know you're going to be alright when I'm not there."

"Dad," Don began to protest. "I'm not five years old, again."

"I know you're not, Don, but what happened to you,"

Don visibly flinched at the acknowledgement of his past nightmares. It was hard enough to have them in his mind without knowing someone else was thinking of them, too. Somehow that made it much more unbearable. Those dark atrocities even he tries to push away from his mind lingering in someone else's as close and dear to him as his father.

"You can't ignore it, son," his father said in a soft tone in discretion of the feelings Don had and hid though his father knew were there. The weakness in his son Allen knew Don had and felt every day. "I know it's not easy."

Don's jaw clenched tightly from the need in his father's voice to see him well again. He wished he could express what he felt, make this easier, share the weight but he knew this was something he had to do alone. The path he has chosen to take was too risky to involve this elderly man. It was too high of a risk for his heart to accept such sacrifice if only to feel the comfort of his father's nurture.

Don's eyes came up to meet his father's for the first time since the conversation started only to see those blue eyes looking back at him with sorry. It stung him deep within to see this but as he took the time to examine him he could see something else. Something red: Anger so deep and profound within the core of the man Don almost feared it, never having witnessed it before. This peaceful man that never held one violent nerve towards anyone now carried this murderous twinkle in his eyes. Don briefly pondered the threat, if any, such twinkle could possess before not only his but his father's eyes were distracted – forced to part ways.

"Dad," he heard his younger brother call out for their father. From the door of his younger brother's room he saw the curly-headed personality appear only to halt when he saw Don standing before him.

Charlie's eyes wasted no time to quickly study he's brother's body taking in all sorts of information as quick as he would anything else worth his study. The outcome being Charlie's small recession back into his room. It was so small it didn't require Charlie to take a step back but his attitude had so suddenly changed it became a recession. A un-attraction to step out of his room. It was a kick to Don's gut. An ugliness Don wished not to feel. An ugliness he wished no one else could see. His suffering was a bigger stigma than that of the one branded ever so permanently on his shoulder blade, in his brother's eyes. The stigma so dark and horrific Charlie couldn't even face Don properly, anymore.

Charlie just couldn't see past what had been done. He shriveled away from Don's presence every single time, now.

It was Don's turn to study Charlie. The shrivel of his character, every revertence of attitude in his presence, every cowardice to stand upright in fear of his older brother. Because those were signs of fear and fear is what Don was calling it. Offensive to Don considering Don had done nothing to deserve it. Don can feel the distance he once had with his brother once again assume its throne between them but this time it greedily took a much larger space. Bitter, and vengeful from its exile.

"I'm moving out," Don announced ever so calmly it was like just any other simple fact tossed around the dining room table but it had made his brother's eyes go wide. There was an objection in his father's lips he could see he wanted to scream out but wisely Alan held it back. Regardless, this was a decision he had decided on prior to this.

"Don, how could you even consider this?" His father's protest came in much more tamed than previously intended.

Don had begun to scoot over against the wall to slip past his father who was taking much of his walking space. He eyed the distance between him and his bedroom becoming defeated at thinking he would surpass his father only when his father made that walking space scarcer in the hall. Alan kept his front, persisting on the conversation to continue. His physical body showing authority Don could not negate, forcing him from moving ahead any further.

"I can't allow that," Alan firmly stated. "I can't let you walk back out there," he said begging and desperation suggested ever so dimly in his voice.

"I need space, dad," Don countered.

"Space!" His father exclaimed in confusion but quickly disregarded it. "Me and your brother need you here," he claimed.

Don turned to Charlie to confirm but only received the opposite. Charlie's eyes fell to the floor and for that while Don assumed that Charlie needed the same as he.

"I really think this is the best thing to do, dad. We all need this." Easily, Don slipped past his father this time. Alan's attention was no longer on him but on Charlie. So, Don took the opportunity to sneak by into his room, shutting the door behind him.

It wasn't long before Don could hear the muffled sounds of his father's and Charlie's loud words from a heated argument through the surface of his bedroom walls. He continued to get dressed, not pausing to hear a word of it. He knew what the argument was about. He dressed faster than the dispute could be over and as he sat in wait for the words to die down he wondered if he should just make his departure from the window, because that's just what he wanted – to not hear what he had caused.

Don gave the window a quick glance before pushing the idea completely out of his mind. On his feet, Don picked up his jacket placing it securely under his arm as he picked up the weapon he had previously concealed inconspicuously under it. He tugged it away under his belt and shirt and listened as the words quieted down. He wondered for a while if Charlie had already left for CalSi.

As Don slipped his jacket on there was a knock on his door. Don turned just in time to see his father let himself in.

No words were spoken for a while. Don noticed a battle going on in his father's head. Finally, he began to speak though it looked as if he had yet to decide on an action.

"Where would you go?"

"A friend's house," Don lied. He didn't want him to know because he knew he would visit him. Come by whenever he could. Every week. Every day if he found a way.

"David?" Alan asked hopeful.

Don shook his head.

"Ian?"

He shook his head, again.

"Whose?"

"Someone I used to work with."

"Not Agent Billy Cooper?" Alan hated to admit how much he disapproved of him but he did and it showed now more than ever.

"You don't know him, dad," Don said as he walked passed him and exited the bedroom.

"Give me a name, Don," Alan demanded as he trailed just behind.

"Dad," Don said as he turned around to face him. "You're doing it, again. This is why I have to go." It was blame being tossed from his hands to his father's, Don knew this. This man wasn't to blame for this decision but there just wasn't any other way to explain what he was doing without it.

Alan gave him an apologetic look and Don felt a pinch of guilt. If only he knew he was doing it for him and not because of him.

"Don…" Alan began but couldn't finish as Don wrapped his arms around him, giving him a tight hug. So tight in fact his father began to feel nervous. There was a moment when Don pushed away that Alan didn't want to let go. He feared something. Something deep within him told him not to allow this. A father's intuition? – call it whatever you want. The need was there, buried in his veins to stop him, but there just wasn't anything he could do, really. Nothing.

So, his son slipped from his fingers, he watched him turn away and climb down the stairs and heard as the front door shut. And that was it.

…

The trip had been a long one in which consisted of a two car rides – both taken while wearing a blindfold – and an 18 hour airplane trip on a private plane. No information of where they were or where they were going had been spilt into Don's knowledge. During this time Don would either be sitting in wait, wanting and trying his best to not let sleep win him over boredom – which it had a few time – or being tugged this way and that by the elbow. The only thing his sense could pick on were a few voices and other discernable noises, like the propellers of the plane and traffic. Already, he knew they had come through a city, but he still didn't know which. And by the time he was allowed to take off the blindfold they were standing inside another well sized foyer that he imagined belonged to a fittingly sized home.

Something else he had also picked up on was the temperature. It was drastically changed, colder than before they had taken off. He noted that, hoping that later it could be of some use.

Valcic and Don were lead to a bedroom to catch up on rest but in this new location Don's engine begun to spin again. He looked at every wall closely, examining everything, leaving no detail behind. He couldn't. He desperately wanted out. The sooner the better.

Immediately he noticed the rustic environment. Even from the foyer he could tell this was an old house that had been kept in excellent condition throughout the decades. The walls ran higher than a regular home's would. The windows laid in rows and also with an exaggerated height, but they looked beautiful. Just outside he could see, as he had suspected, a layer of snow on the country side property even through the darkness of the night. But as he could tell, even from the distance he was, that they were not at floor level. Third, fourth story he guessed. Which meant that even if he could get those windows open, it would be no easy feat to escape through there.

It took Don a bit to realize that just like he was working hard to take in every detail of his new surroundings, Valcic had been doing the same with Don.

Valcic stared back at him with perplexity from the large bed placed at center position from the wall set on the right of the room. There was a moment when Don felt like Valcic could read his mind. He looked back at him as if knowing exactly what Don was planning. As if he was an open book. Don's insecurities were what made him look away, next. He looked over at the opposite wall as if there was something interesting there and prayed that Valcic hadn't read his mind, after all.

Don heard Valcic slide off the bed and he couldn't stop himself from wrapping his own arms around himself knowing that Valcic was coming for him.

And just like a whispered promise, Valcic was standing before him close enough so Don could smell the faded scent of the cologne he had sprayed on that morning. There was a rush in Don's vein and apprehension thick in the air around him. Don wondered what Valcic was going to do next. He had yet to feel him touch him and time seemed to have stopped as he waited for something to happen. Don refused to look up at Valcic, choosing to keep his sight on his chest. He watched as that chest expanded and relaxed in long, deep breaths.

The apprehension had built so high during this time of intense wait. So much so that Don's heart skipped a beat when finally he could feel one of Valcic's hands caress the side of his head.

Valcic's hand fell smoothly down to Don's jaw where he traced his fingers over to the bottom of his chin. There was a gentle push there that made Don's sight angle up to meet Valcic's. Dark eyes met those green ones. Emeralds dove into him as they searched in Don's looking for an invitation, permission, anything to get what Valcic so desperately wanted at that moment, a kiss.

Don could feel a tinge of aggression dominate Valcic once again when the permission didn't come quick enough. Valcic tugged at the back of Don's hair by the back of his head. Their proximities had become closer. Don's arms had unwrapped themselves from his own chest and now found themselves pressed on Valcic's torso. The muscles in his neck became tense as Valcic once again took control of him. He could feel Valcic's breathing slow and husky over his skin.

Don's breathing had sped up with Valcic's movements. He could see Valcic's lips part showing the end of his canines as he stared Don down hungrily.

Valcic felt, maybe, he couldn't wait any longer. A hand had snaked its way around Don's waist line and pressed him close to him. Noses touched and Don tightly closed his eyes shut expecting to feel those hungry teeth press painfully against his lips, tasting blood when they finally broke his skin, just like they usually did.

A hard pounding started in Don's head in anticipation but those teeth never came. Instead, he felt as the hand at the back of his head released its tight hold and the arm around his waist holding him tight in Valcic's embrace relaxed and finally soft and gentle lips pressed on his forehead holding a kiss there for a bit before he was released completely.

Slowly Don opened his eyes not sure if should feel relieved or distressed at not seeing Valcic stand before him. He half expected him to be back for more but something told him he wasn't. Looking over his shoulder he saw as Valcic made his way out, locking the bedroom door behind him.

Don could feel his body begin to shiver. His legs felt weak and rubbery. He knew what Valcic wanted from him. He just wasn't sure if could deliver.

.

Morning came. Don opened his eyes immediately becoming aware of his existence. He turned himself over from the balled up position he had woken up in, seeing Valcic had come back after all. He laid motionless, except for his breathing, on the other side of the bed. He had fallen asleep with his dressing suit still on. A faint smell of alcohol tinged the air and Don quickly assumed that Valcic had spent the night drinking.

Then something quickly grabbed his attention. Outside, through the window, he saw as thick, white flakes slowly fell from the sky. He was on his feet in no time, making his way over there, ignoring the level of coldness the floor gave off on his bare feet. He shortly acknowledged the fire going in the fireplace and the small sounds of cracking it made as it burned, as he crossed the distance. It had been a while since he had seen so much snow considering he lived in Los Angeles where it almost never snowed.

Don looked on in amusement for a while before his hand came up to the window, firmly placing it there, his fingers spread over the chilled glass. He watched as the warmth of his own hand formed condensation around it in just a matter of seconds. On that moment he thought of Charlie. He could just imagine him explain such phenomena to him, again. Something about how the water particles in the air are attracted to… something… maybe he needed explaining one more time, after all.

He felt a small ache in his heart. His other hand came to rest above it as a dose of nostalgia came over him. He missed his brother and father. He wished he could see them so much. He needed them now more than ever. He needed their guidance. He felt like he was turning the wrong corner but in reality this felt like the only thing he could do.

As the days go by he could feel the strings of his sanity come lose, waking up something inside him he never knew he had. A sickness he wished never was seeded in him.

His eyes will always see Valcic with absolute abhorrence. His body always reacted to his touch with such disgust for the man. But now he became fueled by the feeling. Don could hardly wait for the day he finally had Valcic on his knees. But those days seemed so distant. There were walls that Don needed Valcic to let down. He needed Valcic not to feel like he needed to blindfold and place bracelets on Don whenever they went out and he needed him to stop locking every door behind him. He needed that man's trust.

Don knew the only way in was by getting close. He needed to make Valcic believe he had been enchanted by him. That he had become swept off his feet by him and that he no longer fought him.

But the idea scared him – turning himself willingly into those unkind arms – it shook at the core of him. He just didn't know how he would ever swallow down the disgust to be convincing enough. Even the thought of it made his stomach do flips inside him.

He climbed on the window ledge – the space there had enough room in which to hold him – noting that it was much colder by the window as he watched the snow continued to gracefully fall just outside. Over the condensation of the clearly marked hand on the glass, between the fingers, he began to write with the tip of his index finger the letter C.

Don would do about anything to be back home again. It's all he wanted. It's all he ever hoped for, now. And as his finger continued to write out the letters H, A, R, L, I and E he daydreamt of being back home. Of being able to wrap his arms around his father and brother, again, and be able to tell them at least one more time just how much he loved them.

.

That evening, after having dined in the hall with a few other guests Valcic joined a few other men in a conversation. Don observed them from a distance, wanting to know exactly what they discussed but being unable to hear a word of it from where he sat. Most of the attention was on Valcic, Don noticed, and Valcic looked to be completely engaged on whatever was being said. Don felt safe to assume the conversation had something to do with Brown and Eller corp. but couldn't be completely sure.

Don saw as someone crossed his path of view and took a seat on the coffee table just across from where he was seated. He turned to see who it was only to see Simon Jenkins looking back at him – the man he had had a small talk with during Valcic's party.

Simon stared studiously back at him. "Is that one bruise of many or is it just that one?" He asked, briefly pointing at the bruise on Don's cheek. Valcic had done a good job at giving it to him, taking three goes at it to break skin and make it stay dark as long as it had.

Don simply nodded his head in response to Simon's question.

For some reason, Don still felt a sense of wariness around this man. He didn't trust him. Especially, because he didn't know who he was and what he did here. He pretended to care for the likes of him but didn't seem to be one. But he also didn't seem to belong with the likes of Valcic and his friends. So, his wariness for him was born.

"I knew Valcic had been invited but wasn't sure if I would see you here, too," he continued to speak even though Don had turned his attention away from him, giving him the cold shoulder. "I was glad to see you had," he confessed.

"Why?" Don asked. He felt instinctive curiosity for what Simon meant by saying such a thing.

Simon gave him a look that Don couldn't really identify. "Many of the people who come through here don't last as long as you have. You see, many of the men who indulge in these kinds of sins don't have the attention span to last a few weeks with a victim without getting bored of them," Simon said in all honesty. "They get passed down or simply disposed of."

Don gave him a horrified look.

Simon showed an apologetic expression as if regretting to have said as much.

"I'm not Valcic's first?" Don asked hiding how much such acknowledgement affected him.

"No."

Don looked down to his hands as he thought about this information. He saw Valcic's gift to him shine against the light from the lap sitting on the small table next to him. The bracelet was a perfect fit to his wrist. Not too tight but narrow enough so that Don had no chance of squeezing his hand through. He had long since stopped trying.

"What happened to the one before me?" Don asked. A part of him wanted to know but the other part didn't want to hear the answer. It frightened him but he knew it was important to know.

Simon spent a few seconds thinking if he should answer or not before finally saying. "Killed, probably," Don expected such answer. "I wouldn't worry so much about that, though."

"Why?" Don asked puzzled. This was the sort of information that was to worry over.

"You mean something else to him."

Don looked up at him with inquisitiveness. "What do you mean?"

"You've lasted much longer than any of the others he's had."

"How much longer?"

"They usually last a day, on average."

Don looked over to where Valcic sat. He was still engaged in the conversation with the other men. Don wondered what plans Valcic's had for him and how much longer he had until he would suffer the same fate as the others before him.

"I know what you're thinking, Don. I've seen that look before." Simon began studying every single one of Don's expression as they crossed his face. "You have something going on inside that brain of yours. You're thinking of running away… escaping."

Don turned his head at the mention of it, keeping silent. His expression vacant; not affirming or denying.

"It's not such a good idea to get your hopes all up like that. You'll only find disappointment."

"I have to try," Don finally said, knowing that hope was all he was running with.

"There's only one thing waiting for you out there and it's not your family or a happy ending."

Confused, Don's thoughts came to a momentary pause. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"This is older and wiser than you, Don. You step out there and the only thing waiting for you is death."

Don's brows came together at hearing that, not really believing it.

"Let's just say you make it passed their men, over their gates and make it back home," Simon said as Don listened in closely. "Do you think you'll be safe? Do you think this will all end there?"

Don's eyes diverted as he thought through all that. His heart beating a pace faster. He wanted to believe 'yes.'

"These people aren't stupid. They're not lone wolves. These men have learned to work in packs. They have each other's back at all times. They take care of each other when their secrets become threatened. And you're life isn't worth their secrets. Not your life, not your families lives, not even their own. They'll cancel each other out if that's what it takes."

"My family..?" Don asked a feel of distance in his voice as if speaking from miles away.

Death, danger… he didn't want that for his family. He gulped, his throat felt dry. He rubbed at it but it didn't seem to help.

"Yes," Simon leaned in closer to hush the conversation a bit more. "Don," Simon called out for Don but despite that Don didn't seem to respond back to him.

Don was still miles away absorbing everything that had just been said to him. He could feel the hope in him crack a little. "I don't want to stay here," Don said finally looking up at the man before him. His eyes looked pleading, broken but not completely gone.

Simon had hardened himself from such sights, no longer feeding the people like Don the comfort they looked for and strictly stuck with only giving them the reality of it. He knew the sort of danger hope came with. He had come to know that the people with the highest of hopes where usually the one with the worst of fates. Each tied in with each other just like success did with wealth.

"I know this place isn't exactly heaven on earth but you have to understand that the only way out is death," Simon said his voice had become hushed and deep. "You be careful of what you do. That man, Valcic, may like you enough to keep you around but no one else does. No one else cares about what happens to you. They only thing they see in you is a threat and they won't think twice about getting rid of that problem if they ever see you step out of line. In here or out there, they have you targeted. Now more than ever."

"What do you mean, now more than ever?" Don asked.

"This little club doesn't have an equal membership for all its members. There's a hierarchy in place and guess who just entered into the highest rank of the pack?" He asked rhetorically. "Your man, Valcic."

Don took another moment to think about this before coming out with his next question. "Who are these men?"

"They are everything that is bad in this world. Organized crime at its best. They link to every major corruption of the human existence; politician, banks, wars, the black market everything. You landed right at the den of it."

As Simon told him all about this Don began to wonder about this man. Don had yet to come up with a reason for why to trust him.

"Why are you telling me all of this?" Don looked at Simon with the same wariness he had shown him at the beginning of their conversation.

Simon gave him a hard look almost as if expecting Don to come out with the punch line on his own but there wasn't anything Don could do with such information.

"Just remember," Simon began. "Escaping this won't get you exactly what you're looking for. Find freedom, Don, not pain."

Author's Notes: Thanks for sticking around! :)